Maine lobster salad with avocado and egg is evidence of Hernandez's judicious touch with seafood.

Maine lobster salad with avocado and egg is evidence of Hernandez's judicious touch with seafood.

Photo: Eric Kayne

La Balance perfects sweet, savory

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La Balance, a new French restaurant in the Cinco Ranch portion of Katy, is one of those establishments that reveals itself slowly rather than in one big, well-polished bang.

The faceted flame of light captured in a wine-glass stem might make you gaze upward to the boxy cascades of crystals that give this modest dining room its soft glow. They don't look like they were purchased from Chandeliers R Us.

And, in fact, they were not: Each arrow-straight string was hand-hung by a relative of the two men who put the place together, piece by piece, without so much as a single investor, chef Jose Hernandez and his front-of-the-house general, Manuel Atenco. That alone is remarkable in the city's frenzied restaurant market these days.

You might give a cursory glance to the lit pastry case that squats, somewhat out of place, to one side of the dining room. But a closer look reveals small treasures of a breathtaking excellence: a piercingly tart passionfruit tart swathed in furls of soft, singed meringue; a chocolate truffle that pulls your palate into a deep, dark vortex.

At first blush, the menu doesn't announce itself as anything different from the usual French suspects, either. Snails, steak frites, boeuf Bourguignon, the inevitable salmon and scallop dishes. Yet as you eat your way through this cautious document you realize the precision and discipline at work: the eloquent sauces; the beautiful plating; the long, melting braises; the impeccable pan-sears.

How did the garlic aioli with these hand-cut french fries acquire its ravishing fluffy texture and roundness of flavor, you might find yourself wondering, dipping into it again and again just to make sure it's as good as you think it is. And how did this deep-golden butternut squash soup arrive at the exact lively point of balance - the "La Balance" of the restaurant's title - between savory and sweet? Its interest level never flags, from the first bite to the last.

Such skill is all the more impressive considering chef Jose Hernandez made his mark in Houston as a pastry chef, first and foremost. The Mexico City native, who learned his trade at French hotel restaurants there, arrived from New York with chef Philippe Schmit to open Bistro Moderne in 2004. After it closed in 2007, he went on to posts at Aries, Gravitas and Kraftsmen Bakery.

After a two-year stint working back in New York for chefs Fabio Trabocchi and Laurent Tourondel, Hernandez returned to Houston to launch the pastry program at Philippe. From there, he went to avant garde Triniti as its founding chef de cuisine, working with Ryan Hildebrand on both sides of the aisle and establishing the pastry program as one of the city's most interesting.

At his own restaurant in Katy, Hernandez puts it all together: the sweet and the savory, the old-school French classics presented in a gently modern way.

It's tempting to say his little restaurant means Katy dining has come of age, but that depends on whether the affluent Cinco Ranch clientele will support this jewel in its midst. Four months in, weekend dinners are crowded, but weeknights and even the lovely Sunday brunches can be sparsely populated. Inside-the-Loop Houstonians have not, for the most part, discovered that La Balance is well worth the drive.

That should change. Hernandez's menu seems made for our chilly season. At the moment, there's something so right about popping these exceptionally tender snails with their haunting anise note of pastis buoying the hot garlic butter; or devouring a brass casserole of boeuf Bourguignon in long-braised short-rib form, its modest bath of red-wine reduction pulling meat and enoki mushrooms and carrot and pancetta all together into a darkly earthy whole.

Pork tenderloin cooked to a medium-rare pink at its heart appears with a marvelous heap of warm smoked-potato salad and a winy Bordelaise sauce rounded out by sweet-tart plum. Like the buttery, almost sherried vin jaune sauce that comes with a plump sausage-stuffed quail, this Bordelaise is so good that I found myself wishing for more of it. The contemporary plating style Hernandez uses confines sauces to swooshes or smears (or islanded drops), but he is such an accomplished saucier he could charge for sauceboats on the side. I'd gladly pay up.

I could spoon up the tart froth of hollandaise he uses on his brunch-menu eggs Benedict as if it were soup, I am not ashamed to say. It's a rendition of this warhorse that transcends cliché. Hernandez's duck dish has the same effect on me: with its tart, winy huckleberry sauce and its clever cabbage roll on the side, the slices of rosy breast take on new interest.

So do mussels Provencal that use Kalamata olives to add a brooding, briny note to a white-wine broth touched with tomato and garlic. It's subtle and different from any other version in town. Add well-made frites and that exceptional garlic aioli for full-bore mussel heaven.

Hernandez has a judicious touch with seafood in general, from his dewy halibut with cauliflower puree and brown butter, to the remarkably tender, springy lobster that inhabits a Cobb salad variant sparked with bacon and avocado.

An occasional idea may miss the mark, but it does so in an interesting way. Both foie gras preparations on the menu - seared or terrine - are daring and nicely executed. But the buttery-textured terrine is overmatched by a sweet pistachio sauce, to the point that its savor suffers. And the same holds true of the seared version, perched on lovely house-baked brioche: Its combo of orange marmalade and elegant bittersweet chocolate sauce turn out to be simply too sweet to let the foie gras shine.

"If this were dessert, I'd think it was fantastic," said a shrewd friend of mine as he puzzled over the chocolate and orange imbalance. He had a point.

The actual desserts here are far more of an attraction than they are in the usual Houston restaurant. A log of satiny hazelnut mousse gleams with dark chocolate, escorted by an oval of gentle caramel ice cream and translucent teardrops of tart passionfruit sauce. Squares of the softest angel food cake cavort with almond brittle, fresh strawberries and a cylinder of white chocolate mousse, with an oval of invigorating strawberry gelato nearby.

A dessert called Le Mafer appears as a square of velvety mousse layers: coffee and milk chocolate on a base of soft almond biscuit, with a shower of nut brittle adding textural interest. A small chocolate soufflé that requires 12 minutes' cooking time is the unflinching essence of the deepest bittersweet chocolate - with a little pitcher of hazelnut nougatine anglaise to sweeten things up for those so inclined.

Me, I could bask in that fine-textured bittersweetness unmediated.

La Balance was opened on a shoestring (for awhile there was no sign on its strip-center storefront), and the sketchy wine list is an unfortunate reflection of that. I hope with time and success it'll be able to broaden the selection to include more interesting medium-priced French wines from more interesting producers.

The by-the-glass choices don't live up to the food right now; Macon Lugny les Charmes and Entre Deux Mers may be agreeable in a bargain-shelf way, but Hernandez's food demands more. To that end, feel free to pester Atenco to see if he has any wines stashed away. I ended up with a fine curranty 2009 Chateau Anthonic Medoc one evening; and a very nice Chateau des Labourons Fleurie on another.

The service under consummate pro Atenco is welcoming and efficient, although younger staff are still on a learning curve about the food and may serve an array of French cheeses without telling you what's in front of you.

Do not leave without taking a prize or two home from that pastry case near the front door. I watch like a hawk in hopes that the little passionfruit meringue tarts will reappear, although I will settle for the delicate small lemon cheesecakes or the ethereal salted caramel macarons. And if you see tiny squares of sugared fruit jellies, snap them up. They are a pure, riveting display of Hernandez's growing skills.